


our same truths

by neroh



Series: my saints fallen [3]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mystery, Nightmares, Post-Canon Fix-It, Secrets, Sleep Deprivation, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neroh/pseuds/neroh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Perhaps we should just give him some time,” she sighs. “It must be an incredibly disconcerting position to find oneself in - to be taken and returned without so much as an explanation. Probably more than either of us realize… and we’ve been at this longer than Galahad has been alive.”</p><p>Merlin scoffs. “Speak for yourself,” he quips, earning a chuckle from Arthur. He presses the iPad against his chest, tapping the cover with the tip of his index finger. “With your permission, I would like to re-examine the physical evidence from Galahad’s case. Just to be certain that we’ve reviewed everything.”</p><p>“Permission granted,” Arthur replies without hesitation.</p><p>So it begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The biggest thank you to Bre, who is the best cheerleader and beta a girl could ask for!
> 
> Arthur is supposed to be a warmer version of Judi Dench's M, but still a complete bad ass.
> 
> The mix is located [here](http://8tracks.com/boldly/i-m-tryna-keep-my-composure).

The thing about Eggsy is that he’s not what Merlin would have considered Kingsman material.

Since becoming better acquainted with the young man, he has changed his mind about him.

Eggsy Unwin, or Galahad to those within the organization, is all the markers they look for in recruits and later agents. He is brave, probably one of the bravest young men that Merlin has ever met, and intelligent. He’s a quick thinker and a team player and above all else loyal.

Perhaps that loyalty is also one of his faults, besides his terrible grammar and thuggish attitude. It is as fierce as a flame, burning brightly and surrounding the lad’s loved ones in warmth. His loyalty protects them, embraces them, and will continue on until Eggsy’s dying breath.

Merlin observes it in the young man right now, seeing how he sits next to Arthur, wearing his Kingsman suit and glasses. Behind that schooled expression and straight posture is a flicker of worry in Eggsy’s eyes.

As of yet, he does not fully trust the new Arthur and much to Merlin’s relief, she does not begrudge her Kingsman.

Instead, she treats Eggsy with kindness and communicates quite openly with him, as she is doing at the current moment. Arthur perusing his mission file over the tops of her glasses, scanning through the details as highlighted on the iPad.

“Galahad,” she says, glancing over at Eggsy. “I will not go into specifics, as your post-mission interview was informative enough.”

Eggsy blinks. “What?” he squeaks, before correcting himself. “I mean, I beg your pardon?”

“I am not going to waste our time by having you walk me through the details of your mission,” Arthur tells him as a smile touches her lips, spreading to her eyes. She sets the iPad facedown and folds her hands into her lap. “However, I would like to speak to you at length about how you’re doing.”

Merlin sees how baffled the young man is and quite frankly, he shares the same sentiments. He likes the new Arthur, he likes her very much, but her approach to the Kingsman agents will take some getting used to. Where the previous Arthur was authoritarian, she is not.

She is motherly, if one’s mother could defuse a bomb in record time and had extensive knowledge of automatic weaponry as well as six pressure points that will kill a person instantaneously if one hit them just so.

“My dear boy,” Arthur sighs. “This is not an interrogation, nor are you in trouble. I just want to make sure that your recovery is going well and, quite plainly, to see if you are all right.”

Eggsy glances at Merlin, wondering if this is a trick before he realizes that it’s not. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he shifts in his seat. “Still sore, I reckon,” he tells her with a wan smile. “Dr. Hanover said it would take a bit for that to go away.”

“Ah yes, I’ve been shot myself,” Arthur sympathizes. “In the stomach and if I recall correctly, the recovery was the worst of it.”

“Yeah?” Eggsy asks, impressed.

She grins at the lad. “It was my second mission and this Italian bastard managed to shoot me before I threw a fire poker into his eye,” Arthur tells him, delighting at the memory. “In retrospect, I wish his death had been more painful…” She shrugs as if the act was nothing. Merlin knows that she’s one of their top senior agents and understands what Arthur is capable of. “Soreness aside, how are _you_ , Galahad?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he answers nervously.

Arthur sighs, sadness weighing down her features and a bit of anger as well. It’s not directed at Eggsy, but at her predecessor. “This is not a test or something that will lead to your dismissal,” she explains. “This is me, as your boss and as a mother of children of my own, asking you if you are well. Coming back from the circumstances in which you found yourself in can be quite…unsettling. There are resources available to you if you feel that you should need them.”

Merlin watches the faraway expression that clouds Eggsy’s eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.

He’s not tuning her out on purpose—something Merlin is well acquainted with when it comes to the young man—but looks as if something Arthur mentioned has triggered a memory. Eggsy seems haunted and lost, trapped inside of his own head.

“Galahad?” Arthur calls, her hand reaching for Eggsy’s. As soon as she touches him, he jerks and stares at her. “Are you alright?”

He nods. “I think my pain medication is wearing off,” he tells her, clearly a lie.

“Dear me, I didn’t mean to keep you this long,” she apologizes. Arthur gestures towards the door with a smile. “Run along, young man, and be sure to check in with Dr. Hanover before you return to duty. There is no need for you to rush your recovery for our sake!”

Eggsy goes to stand, the movement stiff and not faked. He pulls at his suit jacket, getting the creases out, and extends his hand for Arthur to shake. “Thank you, ma’am,” Eggsy says with a grin.

“Thank you, Galahad,” she replies. “It’s a relief to have you back. I am very proud of you.”

The young man blushes and mumbles a sincere thank you before making his leave.

Merlin tracks him as he goes until Eggsy disappears behind the shut door. He goes back to his iPad to tick off the meeting as complete when he hears his superior speak.

"Something is wrong with that boy,” Arthur declares, sounding deeply concerned. She turns to Merlin with a frown on her face. “It’s as clear as day.”

He nods in agreement. “I was just about to say the same thing,” Merlin tells her, turning his bespectacled gaze to the closed door.

“Perhaps we should just give him some time,” she sighs. “It must be an incredibly disconcerting position to find oneself in - to be taken and returned without so much as an explanation. Probably more than either of us realize…and we’ve been at this longer than Galahad has been alive.”

Merlin scoffs. “Speak for yourself,” he quips, earning a chuckle from Arthur. He presses the iPad against his chest, tapping the cover with the tip of his index finger. “With your permission, I would like to re-examine the physical evidence from Galahad’s case. Just to be certain that we’ve reviewed everything.”

“Permission granted,” Arthur replies without hesitation.

So it begins.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy goes straight home after his meeting with Arthur, where he finds JB waiting at the door with a hopeful look in his eyes.

“You want a walk then?” he asks the pug. The dog’s corkscrew tail wags at the magic word and barks when the young man reaches for his lead. “But you are going to _walk_. I’m not carrying you, alright?”

JB spins a circle and sits, waiting patiently as Eggsy attaches the lead to his collar. He tilts his head when his master gives his head a loving scratch and follows him out the door.

The day is overcast, though not too chilly. The young man reckons that his suit is enough to keep him warm for JB’s walk, but he fancies the idea of changing into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt once they return home.

His back aches something fierce, a slow burn spread from his shoulders and down to the base of his spine. A hot shower will also be in order, followed by a lounging in his bed with the television blaring in the background.

Eggsy and JB go around the neighborhood, the pug leading him around as he darts from bush to tree to plant. Sometimes he takes a piss on them, looking to his owner for acknowledgement before continuing on his way.

Once the pug has finished his business, Eggsy takes them home and has to carry the dog only one block, muttering the entire way back. JB, on the other hand, seems quite pleased with himself.

His mum and sister are out for the day, allowing him to have the house to himself. Eggsy takes an extra-long shower in an effort to relieve the ache in his back and goes about his plan for the day. He dresses in his most comfortable pair of sweatpants and throws on a t-shirt before climbing into bed, where JB is waiting for him.

“Scoot over,” Eggsy yawns, wincing as he lies down. Fur brushes against his arm followed by the warm weight of JB’s head against the curve of his armpit. “Go on, make yourself comfortable, you silly mongrel.”

The pug huffs, stretching his legs against his owner’s side in reply.

He ends up putting on one of those mindless reality shows that most people his age seem to enjoy. For Eggsy, it provides white noise and an escape from the thoughts running through his head.

From Harry.

The man’s name forms a painful lump in his throat and Eggsy swears his breath rushes from his lungs, like a deflating balloon. Tears burn his eyes, threatening to fall and break his false composure.

He blinks quickly, silently willing them and all memories of Harry away. It never works, as the former Kingsman is always on Eggsy’s mind whether it be cursing his existence or wondering what he had done to make Harry want to leave.

It’s enough to make him lose sleep over it.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, closing his eyes.

Eggsy needs to pull it together before he returns to active duty. Arthur and Merlin have been quite generous in giving him time to recuperate, but eventually their tolerance will wane.

Plus he has his mum and Daisy to think of.

He promises himself one good cry, something to get Harry out of his system, and then he will go back to normal. It wouldn’t do if someone caught on to his change in demeanor and figured out what had really happened in Russia.

Eggsy focuses on the television show, not realizing that he’s fallen asleep until his mum’s perfume wafts through the air as she leans down to kiss his forehead. He blinks himself to a half awakened state and mumbles a bit of gibberish that may be a hello.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Michelle tells him, soothing his hair back. “Go back to sleep, honey.”

He nods as JB climbs over him and hops off the bed to follow his mum around, as Eggsy is no longer entertaining. It gives him the rare opportunity to flop out on his bed without the little furball forcing him into strange positions to accommodate the pug.

Michelle pulls a blanket over him, tucking it at his shoulders. Her hand presses against his forehead once, then twice. “You feel a bit warm, love.”

“Hot shower,” Eggsy grunts with his eyes closed.

“Ah,” she replies, amused. “Well, have a good nap. I’ll come get you for dinner.”

Falling asleep the second time around is far quicker. Eggsy hardly moves from his sprawled position on the bed and doesn’t rouse when JB comes back in to check on him. The pug watches the young man before hopping onto the mattress and wiggling his way under his owner’s arm.

Harry haunts his dreams, guiding him deeper and deeper into heartache.

Eggsy can feel the older man’s body looming over his - the press of Harry’s skin, his breath against the Kingsman’s cheek, his lips kissing his jawline, his cock deep inside of him.

 _Touch yourself_ , Harry had told him, whispering the words into the shell of his ear. _I want to watch you._

He had listened, taking his length in hand as Harry fucked him into oblivion. He can recall the slap of his pelvis against Eggsy’s thighs and how the older man folded his legs inside his chest, watching with dark eyes as the younger man obeyed, unquestioning.

And he had been so tender once they finished, pulling Eggsy towards his chest and holding him there as they both dozed off.

He watches the dream version of himself and Harry, pain tugging at his heart. _I miss you_ , he wants to tell his lover. _Please don’t leave me._

It always ends the same way—Eggsy wakes up and he’s still alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin sits in his office—the control room of the Kingsman facility— and staring at the dual monitors in front of him. 

Each one of them is the size of a flat screen television with all of the usual (and not so usual) fixings—high definition, crisp picture quality, speed.

Yet, he cannot make sense of the information in front of him. Grunting, Merlin removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his overtired eyes as he does so.

It’s not that the documents on the screen show anomalies—something he wishes were the case—but that they are _too_ normal. There is nothing amiss from Eggsy’s statement taken in Russia, nor the second one conducted in this very room.

His story is consistent: his mission went awry at the last possible second, and during his escape, the young man had been shot in the back three times; he remembers standing in the field just beyond the perimeter of the JACKAL safe house, and then nothing until several days later.

Eggsy did not recall seeing who attended to his injuries or needs. He was neither threatened or interrogated or made to feel unsafe during his stay.

The bullets had been extracted while the young man was unconscious and given superior medical treatment, in Merlin’s humble opinion. Whoever was responsible for this mystery certainly knew what they were doing, making everything all the more puzzling.

“Find anything of interest?” Roxy asks.

He starts, nearly knocking over a mug of coffee onto the cement floor. Merlin grabs it, frowning in her direction. “Have you ever heard of knocking, Lancelot?”

“I did knock,” she deadpans, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning over his shoulder to see the screen. Roxy raises a brow after a few moments and turns to Merlin. “This is Galahad’s mission file.”

The man slides his glasses over the bridge of his nose and nods. “Indeed it is.”

“Why do you have it open?” Roxy inquires, sounding concerned. “I thought Arthur closed his case a few days ago.”

“It’s been reopened, pending further investigation,” Merlin says neutrally. He makes a few keystrokes and the screens go black, much to the young woman’s vocal dismay. He turns around in his chair with a grin. “How may I be of assistance to you, Lancelot?”

Roxy glares at him. “You’re not getting off that easily, _sir_ ,” she retorts. Her hand gestures at the screens, making her ponytail sway with the movement. “What’s this about? Do you think he’s lying?”

“Quite the _opposite_ ,” Merlin exclaims, affronted. He turns back to the monitors and clicks them back on. Eggsy’s file appears on screen, spread out for them to see. “Everything is in order.”

“Then why are you reviewing it?”

Merlin rubs at his temples, knowing that Roxy will not allow this to drop until she has an explanation. On the other hand, she could be useful to him, seeing how she and Eggsy have developed a close bond. “Arthur and I are concerned about Galahad. He hasn’t been acting like himself since his return from Russia,” he explains. “While some could chalk it up to post-mission stress, I am wondering if there is something that we’re missing.”

Roxy begins to run her teeth over her bottom lip as she paces the room. “Like brainwashing?”

“Possibly,” Merlin sighs. “Or wiping his memory if Galahad _was_ tortured. But _something_ isn’t right with him. I can feel it in my marrow, Lancelot.”

They fall into an uncomfortable silence with only his computers making a low hum. Roxy has stopped pacing and is now leaning against the far end of Merlin’s desk, staring at the door as if Eggsy will come through at any moment.

“Well,” she sighs, looking back at him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Don’t shoot him, first off,” Merlin quips, reminded of the Valentine incident and how Eggsy broke into the headquarters to warn them only to find Roxy’s gun aimed at his face.

It breaks the tension, rousing a rare laugh from the two of them.

Roxy grins. “I can’t make any promises, sir,” she replies.

“Just check on him,” Merlin tells her, turning serious. “If anything seems amiss, report back to me. And I guess…just be there for Galahad.”

Her shoulders drop as Roxy sighs, nodding at what he has said. “I can do that,” she tells him. “I’m supposed to pop over while he’s watching Daisy this afternoon.”

“Impeccable timing, Lancelot,” he compliments. “We can touch base later this week, especially once I’ve sorted through his file.”

Roxy taps her nails after the surface of the desk. “What will happen if something is amiss?” she asks, sounding worried.

“We’ll handle it. The right way,” Merlin assures, touching her hand. “No one is about to give up on Galahad quite yet. Not after all he’s done for us.”

She smirks. “He had help, you realize.”

“Yes, but you’re not the one currently under my microscope, Lancelot.”

“I perish the thought.”

 

* * *

 

The thing about babysitting Daisy is that Eggsy enjoys it more than any older brother should. 

His little sister delights him and being able to watch her grow up happy and healthy and so curious about the world around makes his heart swell with pride. Even when she’s throwing a rare tantrum, Eggsy can’t help but adore her.

She is currently snuggled up on his chest, her tiny face buried into the curve of his neck as she sleeps through _Frozen_ , having dozed off during “Let It Go”. Eggsy doesn’t mind the cartoon so much, as he never got to enjoy them as a child.

Once he lost his father, everything took a turn for the worse. It’s no fault of his mum’s, she was young and suddenly a widow with no idea of what to do. Eggsy could have resented her if he were a lesser man (like Dean), but being a Kingsman has taught him to be gracious and to appreciate what he has.

Daisy makes a noise, something between a sigh and a hiccup, as she adjusts her head. Her arm falls slack onto his belly and she’s still once more. Eggsy grins and kisses her baby soft hair, murmuring ‘I love you’ into her ear.

JB is in one of the many dog beds kept in various rooms of the house and cuddled around a toy. He’s been thoroughly worn out by Daisy, who played fetch with him and Eggsy all morning.

Anna and Kristoff have just encountered the trolls when the doorbell chimes, sending a jolt of panic through Eggsy. It’s for nothing, as both Daisy and JB continue napping.

With some dexterity and incredibly careful movements, he manages to rise to his feet with the toddler still in his arms. Eggsy practical tip toes to the front door, not wanting to temper fate, and peers through the peephole.

It’s Roxy.

He has a cheeky grin on his face when he opens the door, much to his friend’s annoyance. She rolls her eyes and is about to chastise him when Roxy notices the sleeping child in his arms.

“Oh,” she coos as she comes into the house. She rubs her knuckle against Daisy’s cheek. “She looks so sweet like this!”

Eggsy nods in agreement. “I think she’s always sweet,” he tells Roxy. “But I’m biased.”

“That is not a bad thing where Daisy’s concerned,” she says.

They venture back into the living room, where the cartoon is still playing. JB realizes that there’s a guest and stretches before trotting over to Roxy for affection. She sits on the floor while Eggsy pauses to put Daisy in her playpen.

He tucks her in with her blanket and a stuffed bunny and returns to the couch. “So what do I owe the pleasure?” Eggsy asks as he props his feet up on the coffee table.

“Remember I told you that I would stop by,” Roxy responds as she scratches behind JB’s ears. “And you said ‘I’ll be watchin’ Daisy, but come on by, yeah’.” She snickers at her horrible impression of him.

Eggsy palms his face, shaking his head in embarrassment. “I didn’t say it like that,” he complains.

“It’s close enough,” she says with a shrug. Roxy kicks off her flats and makes herself comfortable, giggling as JB climbs onto her lap. “What time does your mum come home? Perhaps, we can go out for a bite and some beers.”

The idea sounds like a good, as he hasn’t gotten to hang out alone with Roxy. She’s become his best mate, which Eggsy never imagined happening when they first met. “She should be back around half five,” he tells her.

“Works for me. I should bring Delilah over next time,” Roxy says as she rubs the pug’s belly, referring to her poodle. “I bet JB misses her.”

Eggsy snorts, thinking about all the times the two dogs ran through the house or guarded Daisy. “The little one would love that entirely too much.”

“I bet your mum would agree. After all, the three of them will tire themselves out and there won’t be a fight before nap time,” his friend replies. She turns to the television screen and lets out a quiet squeal of delight as Hans appears onscreen. “Oh this is my favorite part!”

If only the other recruits of their Kingsman class could see the unstoppable Roxy Morton and her love of children’s cartoons.

They’d never believe it.

 

* * *

 

Once his mum has returned home and JB has had his walk, Eggsy and Roxy head out to their favorite watering hole, which is close to the latter’s flat.

He had told Michelle not to expect him home tonight, as the two Kingsmen have a habit of getting pissed and going back to Roxy’s for corny movies. Eggsy has several changes of clothes and one of his suits stored in the guest room, so an overnight bag is not needed.

“I should have asked this before, but are you _allowed_ to be drinking?” Roxy inquires as they are on their second round and picking at a plate of chips.

Eggsy rolls his eyes as the mug hides his grin. “Why? Are you going to tattle on me to Dr. Hanover?”

“Could you imagine the look on his face?” she counters, smiling mischievously.

He nods. “Galahad,” he mimics. “How do you expect to recover if you do not heed my instructions? Now, Galahad, you need more fiber in your diet and, no, French fries don’t count!”

Both of them dissolve into giggles, which are drowned out by the other patrons and music in the pub.

“You should be nice to Dr. Hanover,” Roxy complains after drinking some of her beer. “He’s not so bad if you would just _listen_ to him.”

Eggsy goes to shrug and winces at the sudden spike of pain that pulls at his back. “Fuck,” he mumbles, reaching to rub his aching shoulder blade. He catches Roxy’s concern and smirks. “I’m fine, Rox. Just some leftover lumps and bumps.”

“You had three _bullet_ holes in your back,” she grouses.

“And as you can see, I’m _alive_ ,” he snaps back.

Roxy rolls her eyes. “You’re bloody blinding,” she tells him, trying to hide the tug of her lips behind her mug.

“I am flashy,” Eggsy replies.

“Oh believe me, I _know_.”

He laughs and soon they are onto their third round. The chips are gone and devoured, replaced by greasy nachos that Eggsy is sure would give Dr. Hanover a conniption fit. In truth, Dr. Xavier Hanover is an alright bloke, that is, if you aren’t under his care.

Which Eggsy is more often than not because no one said that being a super spy wasn’t without its perils.

By the time he and Roxy stumble into her flat, he has a nice buzz going. For the first time in a while, Eggsy feels…light—as if nothing could upset him. He takes that feeling into the shower where he cleans himself off and changes into clothing better fitted for sleeping.

Eggsy finds Roxy in the master bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed. The scent of lightly popcorn fills the air and there is music playing from the television.

“You already started with me, yeah?” he complains, hopping up onto the mattress and landing with an ungraceful thud.

Roxy lifts the bowl without even thinking and wrinkles her nose. “Not yet,” she replies, handing him the DVD container. “I put in your new favorite. It’s high time you watch _Pretty Woman_ , Eggsy. Nearly half the world’s seen it and you’re the last person in all of England who hasn’t.”

“What?” he croaks as the container is pressed into his hand. Glancing down, he is met by a poorly photoshopped pose of Julia Roberts and that bloke from _American Gigolo_. The cover should make him laugh at all of the bad eighties styling and taglines, but it only stabs Eggsy in the heart.

Harry’s face comes to mind, lingering over his shoulder as they stare at their reflections in the dressing room mirror. The Kingsman is wearing his suit and glasses, asking “What do you see?”

Eggsy recalls his response, filled with profanities. He expected a frown on Harry’s face, not the smirk or the mischievous glint in his eyes. The older man began asking him about films, none of which Eggsy had seen, that included _Pretty Woman_.

“Now, my point is that the lack of a silver spoon has set you on a certain path that you needn't stay on,” Harry explained, his expression taking on a softness that the younger man would see in a manor house in Russia. “If you're prepared to adapt and learn, you can transform.”

Eggsy surprised Harry with his next statement, something he would continue to do time and time again even without meaning to. “Yeah, like in _My Fair Lady_.”

“Well, that was surprising,” the older man intoned, echoing what Harry told him in the kitchen after their first kiss.

He drops the container on the bed and shakes his head. “Can we watch something else, Rox?” Eggsy asks, trying to keep his tone even. “Like… _anything_ else?”

“What’s wrong? Afraid of a little romance, Sir Galahad?” Roxy teases. She pokes him in the arm with a smile. “I heard all about you and the Swedish princess! You even thought to bring champagne!”

Eggsy swallows back the sob that threatens to fall from his lips. He doesn’t want to give away that something is wrong, that he didn’t come back as the same person who went to Russia. The very thought of Harry punches the air from his lungs while his head spins, unable to control the surge of emotions that the man causes him to feel.

Or that a fucking Gary Marshall movie could prove to be his undoing.

“I want to watch something funny, all right?” he groans. “What is this? The Spanish Inquisition?”

“I daresay that no one expects it,” Roxy replies without missing a beat. She is fiddling with the remote now and, thankful, ejecting the disk from the player. “Our chief weapon is surprise, fear and surprise; two chief weapons, fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency! Errr…I forget the rest of it, Eggsy.”

He palms his face. “Among our chief weapons are: fear, surprise, ruthless efficiency, and near fanatical devotion to the Pope,” he grumbles, watching as his friend put another DVD in. After a few moments, he realizes that Roxy has put _Beauty and the Beast_ in. “Are you messin’ with me now?”

“Never,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed Bre's name for her Arthur because that's what friends do. Thanks love!

He dreams of Harry.

Ever since Eggsy saw the cover of _Pretty Woman_ , the man has been running circles in his mind. Then again, Harry is _always_ on his mind.

There are moments when he gets a brief respite because he’s focused on something else or someone is distracting him. Eggsy nearly feels normal during these times, like how he felt when he still believed Harry to be dead.

And then it will hit him. Something will remind him that his former mentor is alive and well. It can be a bloke whose laugh resembles Harry’s or a bird with the same shade of warm brown eyes.

The stride in someone’s walk or the way they twirl their umbrella.

Or something they say.

In those moments, Eggsy finds it hard to breathe. He feels that the world is crushing him, causing him to choke on his grief. It’s then the Kingsman wonders what he did wrong, he _always_ wonders.

He’s used to people leaving him: family, friends, lovers. People who say they care, but in the end prove that they don’t. It stings, as it always does, but for some reason Harry makes it _hurt_.

Eggsy hurts so much that there are days he can barely stand it.

He can also barely stand Delilah’s dog breath as she licks his face. Eggsy makes a disgusted sound, giving the poodle a shove and rolling away from her. It does nothing to deter the animal, as she follows him and nearly tramples his testicles in the process.

“Get off!” Eggsy complains, pushing her wet nose away from his neck. “Delilah, no!”

She slobbers on his cheek, clearly an act of revenge for making fun of her as a puppy, before scurrying off to find Roxy.

He wipes his cheek against his sleeve before pulling the blankets of the guest bed over him as a precautionary measure. “Stupid fucking poodle,” Eggsy grumbles to himself. He goes about making himself comfortable because it’s still dark out and he’s on leave.

Also, he doesn’t hear Roxy. She is typically an early riser and the fact that she isn’t awake means that Delilah secretly loathes him.

 _Get in line_ , he thinks to himself. Eggsy flops onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, watching the glow from the street lamps below against the white paint.

He recalls doing this back in Russia, lying in bed with nothing to do but stare at various objects in the room. It had been nicely appointed; it was in Harry’s house, after all.

There were times where Eggsy could hear the former Kingsman puttering around, his footfalls causing the floors to creak, and there were others when the house had been so silent that he wondered if Harry had left. Which he did.

Eggsy’s chest tightens at the imaginary scene of his lover fleeing in the night, not bothering to even look at him as he slept while Harry packed a bag. He wonders if he even kissed him goodbye or whispered an apology in his ear.

He rolls onto his side as the tears come to press his face into the pillow. It’s the same cycle like every night, the one where Eggsy cries himself to sleep while simultaneously cursing Harry’s existence and begging him to come back.

 

* * *

 

Much to Merlin’s dismay, Roxy has nothing out of the ordinary to report on Eggsy.

Not that he wishes ill upon his charge, but at the same time it does nothing to bring him a step closer to figuring out the mystery before him.

 _If_ there’s even one to solve.

There are times as Merlin is perusing through Eggsy’s file that makes him wonder if he’s simply searching for something that isn’t there. Perhaps he needs to get out more instead of sitting in front of a computer all day (and sometimes all night).

“Merlin,” Arthur calls over his intercom system. “Are you busy at the moment?”

He removes his glasses and rubs the lenses against the material of his sweater vest. “Not terribly,” Merlin replies. “Just reviewing mission files.”

“In that case, I will come to you,” she says almost immediately as she closes a book or a laptop. “I’ll see you in about twenty minutes.”

He tells her goodbye and ends the call. It is typical that Arthur is in the city, versus the Kingsman compound, on most days. She doesn’t seem to mind traveling between the two locations, though her schedule more often than not keeps her in London proper.

Merlin puts his glasses back on and sighs at the screen, wishing that Harry were still alive. He would be able to read between the lines with that funny logic of his and smile smugly when Merlin told him that he was correct.

He misses Harry, plain and simple. They had been friends for over twenty odd years, more than best friends, but brothers. As much as Harry would annoy him, Merlin loved that man like they were blood. His death, inevitable being a Kingsman, hit him harder than he could have imagined.

Gone was his work husband and drinking buddy and his comrade in arms. There were other things to attend to, such as ensure that the world would not destruct in the wake of Valentine’s foiled plans. Mourning had to wait and by the time Merlin could, he felt numb.

And then there was Eggsy, whom he worried about constantly. Roxy had Percival to mentor her through her first six months as a Kingsman, while Harry’s charge only had himself.

Merlin wasn’t the mentoring type, at least on such a personal level. In a way he’s glad that Eggsy and Roxy became friends; that way he knew that the young man had some support…if he ever asked for it.

“I wonder what you’d make of this, mate,” Merlin whispers to himself as he closes a window only to open another.

It’s the tissue samples that Dr. Hanover and his team took from Eggsy upon his return to HQ. There’s nothing terribly out of the ordinary in regards to them or the doctor’s notes.

“I do hope that this isn’t inferring with your other duties,” Arthur teases as she comes into his office without knocking.

He turns in his chair and shrugs as he stands. “If I were, I wouldn’t tell you,” Merlin jokes as he shakes her hand. “Did you have a good trip?”

“Timely and efficient as usual,” she tells him as she takes a seat. “It will be nice to spend some time in the fresh air. I ran into Erec on my way to your office. He mentioned that the recruits were going to be at the gun range later and asked if I wanted to come show them how it’s done.” Arthur grins cheekily.

Merlin returns it with a smile. “I would be more than happy to observe this,” he says. “I reckon our recruits think that we’re too old for such things.”

“You are only as old as you feel,” Arthur states. She glances at the monitors and seems to realize that it’s Eggsy’s file. Her face takes on an expression of concern. “Have you found anything?”

He shakes his head and leans forward to go back to his previous window on the computer screen. “Nothing that would be useful,” Merlin answers. “Even Lancelot had nothing to report.”

“Lancelot?” Arthur questions. “Why on earth would you involve Lancelot?”

“She is Galahad’s best friend and can provide intel on his well-being that I would otherwise not have access to,” Merlin answers.

This ruffles Arthur’s feathers. “He is not a mission, for god’s sake!” she reprimands. “Or one of our marks! This is a young man we’re talking about.”

“I _know_ ,” he snaps, not caring about his tone. Merlin pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath. “I know.”

He listens to Arthur sigh. “We are all concerned about Galahad,” she assures after a while. “I know you, especially given your friendship with Harry.”

“Perhaps there’s a problem only because I created one,” Merlin grumbles. He hits one the keys and brings up the tissue samples once again.

Arthur touches his arm. “What if I told you that you had and that there was nothing wrong with him even though your gut told you otherwise? Would you still go ahead with this investigation?”

“Yes,” he replies.

She smiles at him. “Then you know this isn’t of your creation, Merlin.”

“I hope you’re right, Jenny.” He glances at her over the rim of his glasses. “I really hope you’re right.”

 

* * *

 

Eggsy doesn’t know why he’s driving to Harry’s former home. 

He doesn’t even remember making the conscious decision to head in that direction. He had told his mum that he was going out for a bit. “I need some alone time,” he stage whispered over the sounds of Daisy and JB playing tug-of-war on the carpet.

Thank fuck his mum is always understanding as she gives him a quick peck on the cheek before sending him off. She didn’t even tell him to stay out of trouble, but just to have fun and to remind him that she, Daisy, and JB were going to her parents for the night.

“You’ll have the house to yourself,” she says.

Initially, he had driven to his old neighbor, looking upon dilapidated haunts with a new set of eyes. These were the places he called home, buildings that Eggsy spent his formative years in when he wasn’t at his mum’s apartment or hiding from Dean.

His two best friends died during the first wave of Valentine’s plot. Once their funerals were concluded, Eggsy never saw a reason to go back.

But now here he was, in his nondescript car and slightly less garish wardrobe.

No one recognized him through the windows of his automobile, nor did they really notice the young man passing through.

Somewhere between the pub and his middle school, Eggsy took a turn and drove into posher neighborhoods with neatly manicured lawns and houses whose paint isn’t peeling.

It takes him a bit to realize where he’s going, but when he does, he feels a chill running through his body and a prickling sensation in his mouth that reaches into his throat.

Eggsy grips the steering wheel just a bit tighter as he nears Harry’s street, keeping his eyes glued to what’s in front of him.

The house is just the same as he remembers it, all white and pristine with black trim. Eggsy notices that the plant boxes have been maintained in Harry’s absence, something that gives him a spark of hope.

Perhaps…perhaps he’s returned and he’s been here all this time, waiting for the young man to show up. It’s an irrational thought, but a thought all the same.

He can’t trust his own judgment anymore. Eggsy needs that glimmer of _something_ , just something that tells him that he didn’t imagine Harry being there and that it was real. That everything he experienced had truly happened and that that single night with the former Kingsman wasn’t just a dream.

All he can hear as he pulls up in front of the house is his heart pounding in his ears, that steady _thump, thump, thump_ that drowns out the sound of the engine and click from releasing the seatbelt. Eggsy presses his forehead against the steering wheel and mentally prepares himself so he can at least get out of the car.

As he’s leaving his automobile, the front door to Harry’s house opens. His entire body is shaking as Eggsy dares to look up, hoping against all hope that it’s his mentor who stands in the doorway.

“May I help you, young man?” asks a woman who can’t be more than five years older than his own mum. She has wavy hair that probably used to be a flaming shade of red but has lightened over the years and a pair of warm brown eyes. She is also holding a rolling pin covered in flour.

Eggsy sucks in a shuddering breath, gripping the car door for support. He can’t form words and gasps like a fish out of water as a cold sweat breaks out on his face.

“Dear me,” the woman says, now concerned. “Are you all right?”

He is able to nod. The movement dislodges undetected tears and Eggsy realizes he needs to sit down in the driver’s seat before he passes out. “I’m sorry…” he whispers as soon as his bottom makes contact with the leather material.

“It’s all right,” the woman assures, her voice sounding closer than it did before. She is squatting in front of him and has a comforting smile on her face. “I reckon you knew the previous occupant.”

Eggsy goes to wipe his cheek, nodding. “Yeah,” he admits, voice breaking. He glances up at the small balcony where Harry once stood. “I did. He’s gone…”

She assumes that he means that Harry is dead and sighs heavily in understanding. “Well, my dear, I am truly sorry for your loss,” the woman tells him. “Would you like to come inside for a cuppa? You look like you could use one.”

“No,” Eggsy insists, shaking his head. “I’m sorry for bothering you…I’ll be off now.” He slides his legs into the car, rushing his movements before his grief is able to choke him. Eggsy starts talking too fast, his words mashing together until they are unintelligible. “You have a lovely home. I hope you enjoy living here.”

He isn’t sure if she understands him, though the woman stands up and backs away, allowing Eggsy to shut the door. The engine revs and he casts a glance at her, seeing her expression of pity. He drives off because he doesn’t want this stranger to feel sorry for him or for her to see his tears.

Several blocks later, Eggsy pulls into a lot for a nearby park. He situates the car in the stall and turns it off, his hands dropping to his sides like dead weight. As he releases his breath, Eggsy swears that his entire body is deflating.

It refills with rage, burning so hotly that his fists itch to punch someone. He wants to feel the impact of skin and bone and the splash of blood.

He wants to _hurt_. He wants to imagine that whomever he’s hitting is Harry and that he’s making him feel all the pain that Eggsy is feeling.

Before Kingsman, he would go find some poor bloke to harass until he got what he wanted - a fight. It never ended well for either of them and usually the police were called.

Now—because he has real responsibilities—Eggsy has other ways to take out his anger. He takes out his mobile and punches in a passcode. “Archimedes,” he barks into the speaker. “Direct me to the nearest Kingsman training facility.”

The computerized personal assistant, a creation by Merlin and far more superior than Apple’s Siri, chirps as it thinks over the young man’s request. “Starting navigation,” it replies, sounding scarily like the old bloke from _Harry Potter_.

Archimedes guides him to a designated Kingsman facility that’s close to his house. It looks like just any other fitness club from the outside and on the upper levels.

Below is an entirely different story. One that requires a certain level of access and retinal scanning to even get to the elevators.

But Eggsy doesn’t need that.

He goes round to the trunk of the car and fetches the gym bag he always keeps in there. It resides next to Daisy’s pack of toys, diapers, and snacks and an extra set of plastic doggie bags for JB. Eggsy walks inside and recognized by the front desk clerk, who motions him inside.

A quick change in the men’s locker room and Eggsy is in front of a punching bag less than thirty minutes after leaving Harry’s house.

The red bag hangs in front of him, gently swaying on the chain as he looks it over. He imagines that it’s Harry, wearing his bespoke suit and patent loafers. His glasses are on, settling perfectly on the bridge of his nose, as he looks upon Eggsy with those indicative brown eyes.

_The suit is the modern gentleman's armor. The Kingsmen are the new knights._

Eggsy throws the first punch, not even bothering to tape his hands or cover them with gloves. He barely feels the pain.

 

* * *

 

He comes through the front door with his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding his bruised and swollen knuckles from his mum. 

Eggsy expects to hear her call for him until he remembers that she has gone to his grandparents' for the evening. Ever since she ditched Dean and went back to school, his mum and her parents have made amends. They delight in Daisy and even JB, who gets to play with their two dogs.

Neither of them are as intelligent as the pug, in Eggsy’s humble opinion, but JB seems to enjoy their company.

Eggsy stays away, as he doesn’t have much in common with his grandparents. They used to look upon him as a boy destined for trouble, though he proved them wrong in the end.

Mostly.

That itch is still there, though not as insistent as before Eggsy went ten rounds with a punching bag.

He decides to change out of his clothes for something more suited for a club. Not one of the posh ones that Roxy prefers to drag him to, but one where illicit activity takes place in darkened hallways or alcoves.

The anonymous kind of interaction where Eggsy can practically trip and fall into a blowjob, if he desired it. He doesn’t have to exchange names; just a come-hither stare and coy smile.

So Eggsy finds a man, one who closely resembles Harry. Their eyes meet under the strobing lights of the dance floor and the man smirks, a dimple forming next to his mouth. He’s bigger than Eggsy, both in height and in broadness.

This man doesn’t introduce himself when he takes Eggsy’s hand and pulls him to his chest. He kisses him once they are close enough, the bass of the music pulsing through their bodies.

His mouth tastes like vodka and Red Bull, all tangy and sharp on Eggsy’s tongue. He doesn’t care and deepens the kiss, pulling the stranger closer by the nape of his neck. Their bodies sway to the music and the crowd, who bump into them as they dance.

They end up in a back room with Eggsy bent over against a cabinet and his trousers and y-fronts around his ankles. The man has the fingers of one hand tangled in his hair while the other is on his hip, giving his thrusts leverage.

He seems to be cottoned to the fact that Eggsy wants their encounter to skirt on the rougher side, so he pulls on his hair, whispers filthy into his ear as his fingernails dig into his skin, and fucks him hard. “You like that,” the stranger rasps. “You like it hard, don’t you? You want to feel me the next morning, eh?”

Eggsy moans wantonly, pushing back onto the man’s cock in answer.

It ends with him coming all over the stranger’s face since they’ve already found their release. The man is kneeling in front of Eggsy, having given him a hasty blowjob and stroking him off the rest of the way. His face and satisfied grin are splattered with Eggsy’s spunk.

It’s then, as Eggsy is coming down from his high, that he realizes this man looks nothing like Harry.

Not even a little bit.

He leaves the club and goes straight home, feeling ashamed and even lonelier than before. Eggsy strips out of his clothes, tossing them into the hamper, and steps into the shower stall.

Under the stream of hot water, he sinks to the tiled floor where he weeps long after the water’s gone cold.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Barba tenus sapientes** \- Wise as far as the beard, Or wise only in appearance.

Harry watches him getting fucked by the stranger in a nightclub, sitting in a leather chair with a glass of bourbon cupped between elegant fingers. 

He tells the man what to do to Eggsy, divulging what he enjoys and when to stop, leaving him wanting. When he isn’t helping this stranger debauch the young Kingsman, Harry recites the organization’s history in a low, melodic voice.

_Our founders realized that they could channel that wealth and influence for the greater good. And so began our adventure. An independent international intelligence agency operating at the highest level of discretion. Without the politics and bureaucracy that undermine the intelligence of government-run spy organizations, he says over the punch of each thrust. A suit is the modern gentleman's armor. And the Kingsman agents are the new knights._

Eggsy cries out as the stranger’s cock aims for his prostate. He turns to look at Harry, only to be roughly forced to stare ahead.

There is the sound of movement and footfalls on the floor. And the scent of the older man’s cologne as he appears next to him, his lips brushing against his ear.

 _It’s a pity that I wasted my attention on you_ , Harry whispers in his ear. _You were so undeserving, so inelegant. That’s why I left you…for someone better. I left you like a whore, alone in a bed to be used for the next one._

He tries to reason with Harry, only to have the stranger shove his fingers in his mouth, muffling his words.

 _I should have left you to die,_ the older man continues on. _No one would have come for you, you know. They would have left your corpse to rot if hadn’t been for me._

Searing pain comes from his back as if the bullet wounds are reopening. The phantom sensation follows him back to wakefulness, along with Eggsy’s screams.

The light flips on and his mum is there, pulling her now sobbing son into her arms. Eggsy buries his face into her neck, chest heaving and tears rolling down his face. He mutters incoherently as his mum holds him, whispering sweetly and stroking his hair.

It’s his sixth nightmare in four days.

 

* * *

 

“His mum is worried,” Roxy explains over a cup of tea. 

She fusses with an empty packet of sugar, folding it intricately only to undo it and start over. Merlin watches as he listens to her. There are times he forgets that Roxy and Eggsy are both so young, perhaps younger than he was when he first joined Kingsman’s ranks. “And this has been going on for how long?”

“Four days,” she replies. Roxy glances up from the paper in her hands and sighs. “I went by yesterday afternoon because I hadn’t heard from Galahad in a few days. That’s how I found out; when Ms. Unwin said he was resting upstairs. She mentioned that he’s been having night terrors for almost a week, sometimes multiple ones on the same evening.”

He slumps back in his seat, stunned by the news. “Christ,” he murmurs. Merlin rises to his feet and goes to his computer where Eggsy’s file is on the giant monitors. He reviews the agent’s medical history, which has no mention of night terrors. “Did you get to see or speak to him?”

“He texted me a few hours later,” Roxy tells him. “We have plans to go see a play on Shaftesbury Avenue tomorrow evening.” She pauses to sip from her teacup. “What do you think it is?”

Merlin shrugs. “Perhaps JACKAL used some sort of nerve agent on him or a hallucinogenic that activates during REM cycle.” He clicks on the screen and finds himself looking at Eggsy’s post-mission medical evaluation. “It has to be something not easily detected during routine tests, something easily overlooked. A slightly higher protein marker with an elevated white blood cell count. _Something_ that wouldn’t raise eyebrows or be cause for alarm, given his injuries.”

“But what would they want it to result in?” Roxy asks as she perusing the information over his shoulder. “To make his behavior erratic in hopes he’s deactivated?”

“Or that we execute him,” Merlin adds, his eyes still glued on the screen. He hears Roxy’s gasp and turns to her. “Which _won’t_ happen, Lancelot.”

Her expression is tight, though he can see the fear in her eyes. Eggsy is her best friend, Merlin knows from overhearing them trading barbs when they think no one is listening. “But that’s what used to happen,” Roxy says quietly.

“A long time ago,” he assures with a gentle smile. “Galahad is our family and we will protect him, Lancelot. Even if it means destroying what remains of JACKAL and forcing their hand to help him.”

Merlin turns back to the screen where his eyes fall upon the samples taken from Eggsy. There are his own notes of implanting the tracker next to Dr. Hanover’s remarks about the tissue results. He vaguely recalls standing on the other side of a two-way mirror as medical technicians swabbed the inside of Eggsy’s mouth, putting them into clear plastic tubes.

At the time, Merlin had been more concerned about the shaken state of his agent. To be quite simple, Eggsy had looked gobsmacked when he arrived back at HQ, as if he wasn’t certain that he was truly home.

Or he even wanted to be.

Merlin searches through the results, noting that there’s nothing out of the ordinary about them. Until he stumbles through the swab samples.

_Inconclusive._

“Hrm,” he mutters, stumped by the red letters.

“What’s the matter?” Roxy asks, her voice rising several octaves.

He remembers that he’s not alone and looks at the young woman. “Nothing,” Merlin says quickly. “A snafu with the file. You should run along, anyways. Technically, you’re not supposed to see or hear any of this.”

A smile appears on Roxy’s face. “Yes sir,” she says cheekily. “I will report back tomorrow about Galahad’s status.”

“Yes, very good,” Merlin tells her distractedly. He is looking upon the file once more, not realizing that she’s left the room.

 _Inconclusive._ That’s all the information he’s given. It could be a multitude of causes —a bad sample, tampering which he doubts, or something else…

Merlin calls Dr. Hanover, who picks up on the first ring. He sounds annoyed, as the old man is usually wont to sound. “Yes Merlin?” he snaps.

“I’ve called to speak to you about Galahad’s mouth swab results,” Merlin states. “They are listed as inconclusive.”

The doctor grunts. “Yes,” he replies. “It seems that there was more than one piece of DNA present in Galahad’s sample. Probably an error on a technician's part and no cause to worry, Merlin. All of his other panels came back with normal results and Galahad is in excellent health.”

“More than one piece of DNA?” Merlin echoes.

“Yes,” Dr. Hanover says. “Why do you ask?”

Merlin feels his stomach tightening. “Do you still have the samples?” he asks. “I would like to analyze to see if we have the other sample in our database…if there are other JACKAL members that we haven’t uncovered.”

“I’ll have Mim bring it over in an hour,” the old man grumbles. “Does that suffice?”

“More than,” he intones, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he ends the call.

This cannot be good. Or it could be nothing.

Merlin is really hoping for the latter.

 

* * *

 

He trudges into his flat around nine in the evening, placing his briefcase on the kitchen counter. 

Merlin sighs as the additional weight is distributed elsewhere and goes to remove his coat and shoes. He hangs the former in the hallway closet alongside the rest of his outerwear and places his loafers by the front door.

The flat is quiet and thankfully so. Merlin’s head is buzzing after the day he’s had and a stiff drink is definitely in order, something on the rocks that he can sip in his favorite chair. His computers are running the DNA samples through the database and should be ready by tomorrow night if all goes accordingly.

 _I hope it does_ , Merlin thinks to himself as he pads into the living room, where the liquor cabinet is.

It’s comprised of heavy wooden and elaborate carvings, chiseled by someone in the late nineteenth century. Merlin had been with Harry when he spotted it gathering dust in an antique shop in Pembrokeshire.

They had been on a brief holiday, needing to get out of London and to feel the sea air against their skin. Merlin’s aunt had a beachside cottage that the family hardly used, so with two bags between them, he had dragged his friend to Wales.

The two men had relaxed on Freshwater West’s sandy shores, reading books and sitting under the sun. Neither of them dared to go into the freezing water, only dipping their toes as they wandered along the coastline as they chatted about nothing in particular.

Merlin had bought the liquor cabinet on their next to last day and paid for it to be shipped to his flat, much to Harry’s amusement.

“Do you even drink?” he teased as the cashier ran Merlin’s credit card.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been known to on _occasion_ ,” he replied pointedly over his friend’s laughter.

For all of Harry’s taunting, he helped Merlin carry the cabinet from the entryway to the living room and bought him a fine bottle of whiskey.

There had been many night since then where he would phone Harry to decompress from the events of the day and many more where they would sit across from each other, holding a glass.

Merlin misses those moments and having someone who understood what type of pressure he deals with on a daily basis. He could speak to Percival, who is a lovely chap, but it’s not the same as having Harry.

“I miss you, you bloody bastard,” Merlin grouses as he pours himself a glass. He takes the first sip and sets the tumbler down on the top of the cabinet.

There is a compartment, probably meant to store stirrers or something to that extent, but he uses it for something else.

Merlin pulls out an iPad and turns it on. He added a few bells and whistles on his own time, as well as its twin that is packed up with the rest of Harry’s belongings. The device has an untraceable wireless connection and a messaging system Merlin developed without the previous Arthur’s knowledge.

He hadn’t meant to keep it from his superior and wanted to present it to him when Merlin felt the system was ready to be launched within the organization. Until that day came, he used Harry as a guinea pig. They sent each other silly jokes, those words encoded until each other of them entered their passcode.

Now Merlin finds himself checking it, hoping to find a new message awaiting him.

It never comes.

 

* * *

 

Eggsy adjusts his tie in the mirror embedded into the closet door, trying to ignore how tired he appears.

He is wearing a suit to the play since it’s on Shaftesbury Avenue; a simple tailored, trim silhouette in French navy. The cut is more modern than his bespoke suit and the lapel a bit more narrow, but it does the job admirably. He wears a finely striped dress shirt underneath paired with a bright green tie.

If the damn thing would knot under Eggsy’s trembling fingers.

He releases a sigh and waits a few moments, trying to breathe his frustration out before he ends up punching the mirror.

Perhaps this outing with Roxy will exhaust him enough and he will _finally_ be able to sleep longer than three or four hours.

“Alright,” Eggsy grumbles to himself and goes about trying his tie. He abandons the idea of an Eldredge knot and settles on a full Windsor. The less complex knot proves to work and he goes downstairs to wait for his friend.

Who is apparently waiting on him.

Roxy stands up from her seat, smirking at him as she sets JB down on the floor. “You’re late,” she declares playfully. She goes to straighten his tie, making a disgusted sound before she redoes the knot. “Have you forgotten how do your own tie? What on earth would Arthur think?”

“Oh hush up!” Eggsy hisses at her. “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

She looks him in the eye and shakes her head. “Yes, I know,” Roxy tells him. “But the suit is the gentleman’s new armor, didn’t you know?”

“Ha,” he retorts. “So witty, Ms. Morton!”

Roxy finishes the knot and taps his chest with a smile. “Always! Now come along, we have reservations that we’ll be late for because of you!”

They dine not far from the theater on Italian food. It is one of Roxy’s favorite places and Eggsy can see why as their meal is delicious, neither too heavy or too light. The two of them chatter nonstop over the course of dinner and as they walk to the venue.

Eggsy is excited to see _Pygmalion_ , though he’d never dare admit it aloud. He’s watched _My Fair Lady_ until he’s run the DVD ragged and had to purchase it more than once, but to see the actual play it is based off of sends a thrill down his spine.

“I never pictured you as the type to like plays when we first met,” Roxy whispers as they sit down in their seats.

“Because I was dashingly handsome and rugged,” Eggsy says back with a cheeky grin to a match.

Roxy nudges him in his side, shaking her head as she laughs. “Ever so humble, Mr. Unwin,” she teases, patting his arm. “I’m glad you came with me. I’ve been wanting to see this for ages and the theater gets so lonely when you go on your own.”

“All these couples,” he says with disdain as Eggsy scopes out the people filing in. His expression makes Roxy giggle into her program.

As the lights dim, Roxy does a shuffle in her seat. “I forgot,” she whispers over the swell of music, handing him a pair of theater binoculars. “In case we get bored and decide to make up stories about our fellow theater-goers.”

He reckons that his friend knows him better than Eggsy thought because halfway through the first act, he finds that he needs a distraction from the play. He’s already tried to stop himself from fidgeting in his seat, not wanting to disturb Roxy as she watches the play, and is now using the binoculars.

Eggsy is half listening to the dialogue as he spies on the other people inside the theater: some of them falling asleep, others biting their nails or picking their noses when they think nobody's looking, and a few couples who exchange knowing smiles.

He envies the latter, that desperate stab to his heart and reopens barely healed wounds. Eggsy wanted that with Harry—being like every other couple on the street with the exception of being super spies and having someone to enjoy the little things with.

“You alright?” Roxy intones.

Eggsy turns to her and nods. “I need a turn about the floor during intermission,” he lies. “My legs are falling asleep.”

“Perhaps a cocktail as well?” she inquires, to which he nods in reply.

Each of them go back to their activities, Roxy watching the play and Eggsy watching the audience. His eyes wander from level to level until someone grabs his attention.

In the darkness of the theater, with only the lights from the stage illuminating a sea of faces, Eggsy finds that his breath is punched from his lungs.

A man sits on the opposite side of the venue, watching the play quite diligently through a pair of thick-framed glasses. He wears a well-tailored suit, like many of the other men in attendance, and has his dark hair parted on the side.

Eggsy can only see this man’s profile, but it’s enough to make his knees weak. “Harry?” he whispers to himself, wondering if his wish has been granted.

Did Harry know that he would be here with Roxy? Did he want to surprise him with his return? Would he apologize for the way he left?

Would he even need to explain why?

The audience begins to clap wildly as the lights come on, signaling intermission. It startles Eggsy, who drops the binoculars onto the floor. He is quick to retrieve, apologizing profusely to Roxy as he shoves them into her hand and hurries out of the theater.

He pardons himself as he pushes through the crowd, trying to find Harry without drawing too much attention to either of them.

“Eggsy! Where are you going?” Roxy calls from somewhere behind him, her voice carrying above other people’s.

He ignores her question and keeps going. He needs to see Harry, to know that he is alive and breathing, and to able to throw himself in the older man’s arms.

Eggsy spots Harry in the crowd and feels his adrenaline spike. He is standing at the bar and leaning against it as he waits for his drink to be prepared.

“Harry!” he cries, earning the man’s attention. Eggsy is about to move towards him when he turns, revealing blue eyes where Harry had brown.

This man raises a brow and tilts his head at the Kingsman. “Pardon?” he asks in Welsh accent. “Do I know you?”

Eggsy stutters, feeling himself getting dizzy. He must tumble forward for the man grabs him by the arms just as Roxy arrives. “I thought…” he mumbles, blinking deliberately.

“Are you alright?” the stranger inquires, steadying Eggsy. He turns to Roxy. “Perhaps we should get him some air?”

She must agree because soon Eggsy is out on the balcony in the cool night air and being lead to a bench. Roxy is rubbing his back and telling him to take deep breaths while the man comes rushing out with a plastic cup of water.

“Should I call someone?” he says to Roxy.

“No,” she assures, pressing the cup into Eggsy’s hand. “I think he just got overheated.”

His hands are trembling, harder than he’s ever seen them, and he can barely manage to place the cup against his lips. “I thought I saw him,” Eggsy whispers as the man leaves them be.

“Who did you see?” Roxy asks, taking the cup from him. She sets it down on the bench and cups his cheek, caressing it with her thumb. “Eggsy, who did you see?”

He tries to stand up, only to find his knees buckling. Roxy has him by the waist and is easing him back down with quiet assurances. “It was him, Rox,” he mumbles. “I thought it was him.”

If she asks him another question, it’s lost upon Eggsy. He is vaguely aware of her taking her phone out from her purse and placing a call. He wonders to whom - his mother? Merlin? the medics?

“ _Barba tenus sapientes_ ,” she says into the phone. “Yes, our location is the second story balcony at Shaftesbury Theatre.”

Eggsy’s hands go to undo his tie, clumsily tugging at the knot as sweat pools at his temples. Roxy holds her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she bats his hands away to loosen the article of clothing. Her fingers press against his pulse and she is frowning.

“His pulse is elevated,” she relays to the person on the other end. “No, I don’t believe so. We had some wine at dinner.”

He realizes that he’s going to faint, not caring who sees or if Roxy ends up teasing him about it later. Eggsy allows the sensation of being pulled to weigh his body down, forcing his eyes closed as he remembers a time he went to the beach with his mum and dad.

His father had held his hand as the current pulled at their sand covered feet. Eggsy recalls squeezing his fingers, huge compared to a child’s, and seeking his assurance that they were safe.

 _I won’t let go_ , his father tells him as his surroundings go bright like the sun before fading to black.

 

* * *

 

Merlin is surprised to find that the search through the Kingsman database yielded results as quickly as it did. 

In truth, he expected the cycle to last for two or so days and had ignored it as he went about his other duties. It’s nearly eight in the evening when he checks the search’s progress and sits down to open the single match.

“This better be worth it,” Merlin mutters to himself as he sips his tea. “Or I’m going to request a holiday.”

A simple click will give him the answers he seeks and finally lead down a path to conclude his investigation. With any luck, everyone will be at ease and resume their normal lives. So Merlin hits the mouse and finds himself in a coughing fit as lukewarm water tries to force its way up his nose.

He grabs a napkin, choking into it until he’s able to breathe. Merlin sucks in several deep lungfuls of air and pulls off his glasses to wipe his watering eyes, wondering if he’s gone mad. He pushes his glasses back in place and leans closer to the screen, his heart racing while he reads the results.

“No,” Merlin whispers, shaking his head. “No, it’s _impossible_!”

He reaches for his cell phone just as it goes off with Arthur’s special ringtone. “Things just got more complicated,” Merlin barks into the speaker.

“You’re bloody damn right they have,” Arthur snaps. “Eggsy has just been admitted into the Kingsman wing at King Edward!”

Merlin nearly drops the phone. “What? Why?!” he yells and then realizes he needs to remain calm, given the situation. “Never mind, I’ll be right there!”

He sends the results to his iPad and rushes out of his office without bothering to turn off the lights.


	5. Chapter 5

He’s woken up in his fair share of hospital rooms, given his penchant for causing trouble and getting into fights. 

Eggsy knows the drill: the confusion, the too bright lights, that god awful inclined angle that hospital beds are preset to, the aching of fresh bruises and still bleeding cuts, the compulsion to slip away unnoticed. While he wants to do the latter more than anything, the young man finds that his entire body feels weighed down. It hurts to move, even more so when his dress shirt and trousers brush against his skin.

“Eggsy?” Roxy calls softly. Her voice is followed by her hand against his cheek, cool and comforting. Her perfume wafts around them, a pleasant mixture of florals and sandalwood.

He must try to move because Roxy is pushing him back down, without much effort as it seems. He is still disoriented and has a difficult time keeping his eyes open for longer than a few seconds. “Where?” Eggsy croaks.

Even swallowing takes effort.

“You’re in the hospital,” she answers. “You fainted at the theater and I phoned it in.”

Eggsy looks at her, eyes wide. “Phoned it in?” he questions. “Phoned it into _who_?”

“Who do you think?” Roxy intones harshly. “I couldn’t allow you to go to just _any_ hospital, you daft cow!”

“If you’re already insulting me, it can’t be too serious,” Eggsy says dismissively as he tries to sit up. Roxy pushes him back, shaking her head. “What the hell, Rox?”

Her expression is unmoving. “No, you’re staying put,” she tells him, gesturing to the IV embedded into the top of his hand. She reaches for the call button and presses down. “Dr. Hanover wants to look you over and Arthur is here.”

“What?” Eggsy squawks angrily. “Why?”

“Lancelot,” Arthur cuts in from the doorway before walking inside of the hospital room. “Thank you so much for notifying us that Galahad has woken. How are you feeling, young man?”

His jaw clicks shut and he shrugs, trying not to give too much away. “Alright, I guess,” Eggsy tells her. “I would like to get this thing out of my arm and sleep in my own bed.”

“We will have to follow Dr. Hanover’s recommendations in regards to whether you can return home this evening,” Arthur states in a tone that leaves absolutely no room for argument.

Eggsy fidgets against the mattress and nods, noticing how Merlin sneaks in with Dr. Hanover. “It seems like we’re havin’ a party in here, innit?” he tries to joke as the doctor shuts the door behind them.

“Quite the opposite,” Dr. Hanover grouses.

Eggsy cranes his head, frowning as he snaps, “It’s a _fucking_ joke. You’ve heard of ‘em, yeah?”

“I am going to allow that remark to slide even the fact that you have had a rough evening,” Arthur says with an icy stare. “Now, Galahad, can you explain to me why you accosted a man and insisted that he was Harry Hart?”

A cold feeling rushes over his body as if he was dunked into ice water. It begins in his chest and expands outwards towards his extremities until Eggsy feels a shiver down his spine. “Who told you that?” he chokes.

“It doesn’t matter who told me, young man,” Arthur replies. “Answer the question.”

Eggsy shakes his head, feeling his lips quiver. “You’re mistaken.”

“Lancelot,” Arthur calls, turning her head to glance at Roxy, who stiffens at being addressed. “Did Galahad refer to a stranger as Harry Hart, this evening?”

She looks at Eggsy, clearly struggling between covering for her best friend and her duties as a Kingsman. “He hasn’t been sleeping well,” Roxy explains, stammering. “It is my belief that Galahad was overtired.”

“I want an answer, not an excuse, young lady,” Arthur counters, causing the young woman to wilt in her presence.

Roxy nods nervously because even she knows not to give lip service to Arthur. “Yes, ma’am,” she finally says. “He did.”

“At least one of you isn’t lying,” their superior grouses as she turns back to Eggsy. “Now that is out of the way, perhaps you would like to tell me how it is that Harry Hart’s DNA was found in your swab samples.”

Arthur’s words punch the young man in the gut, sending precious oxygen rushing through his nose and mouth, leaving him dizzy. Eggsy takes in a drag of air as his fists clench the linens on the hospital bed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answers, deliberately.

“Eggsy,” Merlin intones, stepping towards the bed. He looks sincere upon his approach and is holding an iPad in his hand as if it was just another part of him. “You don’t need to be frightened. Just tell us what happened…what you remember.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re goin’ on about! Harry Hart’s dead; we _both_ saw Valentine shoot him,” Eggsy bellows accusingly at Merlin, lunging on the mattress only to have Arthur hold him back. A momentary lapse of surprise of her strength astonishes him before he remembers what’s happening. “And I _told_ you lot everything I know about Russia, so lay the fuck off!”

“Eggsy,” Merlin repeats, louder this time as he comes closer. “I ran a search through the database and saw the results myself.” He sighs while Eggsy shakes his head feverishly. “What really happened in Russia?”

He recalls standing on the lawn of Harry’s home, pressing his palms into his eyes as tears seep out of them. _You could have told me,_ Eggsy had said, sniffling. _I wouldn’t have said a word to no one._

Harry, damn him, had gotten a lost puppy expression on his face, highlighted by the sun above them. He nodded and whispered so softly that Eggsy hadn’t dared to ask him to repeat it. _I know._

_I know._

Two words that are so simple, yet hold so much meaning.

Harry had entrusted Eggsy with his secret, taking a risk that could have been the end of him, and revealed himself to be alive.

Eggsy wasn’t going to break that; not for Kingsman, not for anyone. He would hold it close to his heart and never discard, even if Harry had done that to him and done it so easily.

Torment comes to him in stinging tears. Eggsy sets his jaw and shakes his head, adamant not to reveal his secret.

Their secret.

“Harry’s dead,” he repeats, his voice hollow to his own ears.

Merlin grabs him by the shoulders, giving Eggsy a good, firm shake. “Harry _isn’t_ dead,” he argues. “Don’t lie to me just to protect him.”

“Harry Hart is dead,” Eggsy snaps, each word like a blow with his fists. “And dead men can’t lie, yeah?”

The older man frowns, turning his eyes into a fathomless sea of darkness. His fingers dig into Eggsy’s shirt, pinching the skin underneath. “I know what happened,” Merlin states. “He was the one who got you out of the JACKAL compound and sent us that message. The encrypted one telling us that you were safe and no harm would come to you.”

“No,” Eggsy whispers, lowering his head.

Merlin tugs at him and their eyes meet. “He tended to your wounds and nursed you back to health,” he continues, calmly. “Am I right, Eggsy? That house you were found in belonged to Harry. He was with you the entire time you were recovering. He removed and disabled your tracker, didn’t he?”

“No!” the young man shouts, pushing against Merlin’s grasp. “Fuck you! Get off me!”

“He revealed himself to you,” Merlin says over Eggsy, his voice trembling with desperation. “He told you what happened to him after Kentucky and _left you_ when he realized that you were well enough to go home. But something between you two and then he abandoned you.” He ignores the sob that escapes from the younger man. “Harry knew that you would keep his secret and that he didn’t have to worry. Am I right, Eggsy?”

Eggsy finds it hard to breathe as Merlin relays the events in Russia without missing a beat. He claws at the man’s arms as his head shakes until he’s sure it will fall off. “Harry Hart is dead,” Eggsy sobs, shoving Merlin away from him.

He leaps off the hospital bed, tearing the IV from his hand with the sudden movement, and tries to get to the door. To Eggsy’s astonishment, it swings open to reveal two orderlies who grab him by the arms and haul him back to the bed, kicking and screaming. “I hate you!” he screams as he’s thrown face first onto the mattress. “I hate all of you! Fuck you and your fuckin’ knights! Get the fuck off me!”

Dr. Hanover approaches him, holding a needle and syringe, and motions his head to one of his staff. Eggsy’s sleeve is rolled up, exposing his bicep. “You will feel a pinch, Galahad,” the doctor assures, not bothering to look the young man in the eye. “But it won’t hurt much.”

“I won’t tell you a fuckin’ thing!” Eggsy spews, struggling to move. “You can drug me with whatever you want, but I won’t tell you a fuckin’ thing!”

The needle sinks into his flesh like a knife to butter and the contents are pushed through to his body before Dr. Hanover removes it.

“Fuck you!” Eggsy continues shouting, ignoring the bitter taste that lies on his tongue. His face is wet with tears and he can’t seem to stop crying, even as he breaks free of the orderlies’ grasp. He turns upon his heel and falls gracelessly to the floor. “I’ll kill all of you. After you’re done with me, I’ll kill each and every one of you.”

Roxy’s face appears above his own, framed by darkness that is rapidly swallowing his vision. “Eggsy, just calm down,” she pleads, placing his head in her lap. Her fingers are in his hair, brushing it off his face. “It’s going to be fine, you’re just tired is all. You don’t know what’s you’re saying.”

“I promised him I wouldn’t tell,” Eggsy cries. “Roxy…I swore I wouldn’t.”

She hushes him. “And you didn’t,” Roxy insists. “It’s okay now.”

“He left me, Rox,” Eggsy whimpers. “Harry left.” The familiar pull of becoming faint has returned, though he is starting to suspect that whatever was in that syringe was a sedative. “Why did he leave me? What did I do wrong?”

If Roxy answers him, he doesn’t hear it as his own voice is the last thing Eggsy hears.

 

* * *

 

“So what do we do now?” Arthur inquires sometime later.

She and Merlin are standing in Eggsy’s hospital room, which is now silent save for the sounds of medical equipment and murmur of his mother’s voice as she whispers to him. Roxy had phoned Michelle Unwin as soon as the excitement had ended and was now at their home, watching the lad’s little sister.

What Dr. Hanover told her, Merlin will never know, but it seems to pacify her questions as to why her son is in the hospital. Michelle holds Eggsy’s hand in both of hers and kisses his knuckles when she isn’t speaking to him.

As for the young man, he has been changed into a hospital gown and tucked under layers of blankets to keep him comfortable as he rests. His clothing has been taken away and stored somewhere until Eggsy is discharged.

 _If_ they can even discharge him.

“Hamish,” Arthur intones, worried.

Merlin shakes his head, surprised to hear his given name. “Yes, pardon?”

“What will we do now?” she asks, gesturing to Eggsy. “Do we send a task force to bring Harry in? Give Galahad extended paid leave and force him to see one of our psychiatrists? I’m afraid that I am at a loss…”

He nods in understanding, turning his gaze back to the young man in question. “There’s only one thing we can really do,” Merlin sighs as he unfolds his iPad cover and turns the device on. He goes to the messaging system he created and hopes that Harry had the foresight to retain his own access to emergencies.

Knowing his old friend, that iPad stored amongst his belongings is a duplicate.

“What are you doing?” Arthur asks.

Merlin types a message with a trembling finger, hoping that the words are enough. “Bringing Harry home,” he replies, as he hits the last letter to his communique and sends it off.

 _Eggsy needs you,_ it reads.

Ten hours later, Merlin finds the recipient standing in his living room.


End file.
